


Reclamation

by Vesker



Category: South Park
Genre: M/M, Mild Gore, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 12:07:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6005323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vesker/pseuds/Vesker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short AU Oneshot. Prompt: Reclaim. | Damien has been trying to get Pip back to Hell for years since he left. Now he's a King and no longer a Prince, he's simply decided to go up there and fetch him himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reclamation

Red stained the lush grass, tinted the lake water pink. White feathers blew across the fields like some new kind of spring flower in seed. Meat - torn chunks that could no longer be described as body parts - decorated the landscape and even the trees, in places. Damien, King of Hell, stood in the middle of the bloodshed, panting heavily. Each hand, four in all, held a different limb of an angel he’d ripped apart moments before.

Two legs, an arm and a wing, to be precise. 

There was only one being before him now, having been thrown out of hiding in desperation to halt the massacre. He couldn’t be described as either demon or angel any more. He had been both and now existed somewhere between the two. Wings that had been pristine white in Heaven and jet black in Hell were now an ugly mottled grey. His tail was hanging prone between his legs, lifeless. His horns were no more than small nubs and the ring of light that had tried to reform about his head had come back fractured, flickering rather than glowing. 

But there was no mistaking him. 

“...Pip?” Damien’s mouth - or perhaps, more accurately at this point, his maw - split into a wide grin. He had found him at last! The sole reason he had clawed his way up in the first place, the reason he had demanded a legion of demons to follow him up and slaughter indiscriminately. The reason he was standing in one of Heaven’s pastures, transforming it into no-man’s land.

He took a step forwards and the other just watched him, eyes wide, glassy. Damien frowned. He had been expecting a bit more of a reaction. At the very least, he had expected Pip to be  _pleased_  to see him. He took another step, the remains of the deceased angel falling from his hands to the field. He had no idea what happened to angels when they died.

He didn’t really care, either.

Pip suddenly looked up as if snapped out of a trance, meeting the demon’s gaze properly. Immediately his eyes brimmed with tears. He wasn’t even sure how long they had been apart. It felt like years. For the longest time he had missed him, screamed for him, cried for him. Tried to throw himself back into the depths, commit so much sin they’d have no choice but to damn him again. And now Damien was here... And he was so numbed by the shock of his actions that he couldn’t even manage to say anything. 

“I came for you,” the demon muttered in a low growl, crouching before the boy on the floor. His true form was monstrous, ten foot tall, hulking. Pip was tiny, always had been. Tiny and soft and delicate and to be handled with care. Unless it was pleaded for otherwise. “Aren’t you glad? Aren’t you happy to see me?”

Pip instinctively drew back. He had seen Damien be cruel, he had seen him kill and he had seen him be angry. But nothing like this. This had been pure, feral rage. Unbound and unleashed. He was, for the first time in many years, frightened of him. The beast, all teeth and claws, muscle and anger, slathered head to hoof in blood and viscera and broken feathers. His minions were in the shadows, staying out of the light as best they could, but he could sense them. Pip shook, usually so comfortable in Damien’s presence and now not knowing if the demon would kill him or not.

“Damien, you… What have you done?” His voice was barely a whisper, his throat feeling hoarse. Perhaps he had been screaming, he couldn’t remember. Damien scowled.

“I have done what was necessary. It was the only way, my sweet, the only way…” He reached out a hand to touch the boy and Pip flinched, bringing his arms up to his face, wings bending round to shield him. Damien halted. He hadn’t seen such behaviour in so long, not since Pip fell down to him for the very first time. He was reminded, suddenly, of how different Pip was to him. The boy was a pure soul, a good creature. He had died on Earth and gone straight to Heaven. Why had he assumed falling would have changed him? He had never revelled in the pain of others, not once. His damnation was caused by lust and pride, never wrath or gluttony.

Why should he have expected the massacre not to faze him?

“I wanted you back, Pip, I… I _needed_ you to come home.” Because that’s what Hell was, it was his home and it had become Pip’s home too. They had _their_ home, together, inside the castle. And it had been cold and horrid and uninhabitable even since Pip had been taken from him. He had grown tired of negotiating, tired of finding loopholes and laws that could bend to get him back. He’d always been taught that force works better anyway. So that’s what he had done.

“…It didn’t have to be this way.” Two wet eyes peeked out at him from behind the shield of feathers. Two tiny hands gently prised the wings apart, slowly revealing his head, followed by the rest of him. Damien noticed, for the first time, that Pip no longer bore any of his scars. He was clothed in a simple white tunic, as was customary of angels, but his arms and legs were visible and bore no marks. This struck him harder than he would have liked. There had been so much history behind each and every welt… And they were gone.

“It had to be, nothing else was working, I had to… I _had_ to come and get you, don’t you understand?” Damien wasn’t one to plead, but he could hear it in his voice. The boy had to understand. He had to see it from his point of view. It wasn’t hard, was it? Was it really so unimaginable? He jumped as two small hands touched his cheeks. He hadn’t even seen Pip get up. He was always so quiet, so gentle.

“It didn’t have to be this way,” he repeated, tone tainted with sadness. “If you had just waited a little longer… They would have sent me back, I know they would have.”

Damien hooked both of his right arms about the boy, one at his back and one at the backs of his knees, causing Pip to buckle and fall against his chest. He stood then, lifting the boy up with ease, as if he weighed nothing. Which, in this powered state, he hardly did. “I couldn’t wait any more, Pip, I couldn’t.”

“You’re a fool, Damien, this will start a war.” Pip sighed but gave in, wrapping arms about the king’s neck and burying his face into the mane of black hair. He shouldn’t love such a being, but he couldn’t help himself. It would take him a while to forgive Damien for this, but when it was done all for him… What could he say? “You’re a bloody fool.”

“But I’m a fool for you,” the demon murmured, gently knocking Pip on the head with one of his horns. It would start a war. So what? Both sides had been after one for years. It was only a matter of time anyway. May the next thousand years be embroiled in war. As long as he had Pip by his side, he didn’t care.

“Come on. Let’s go home.”


End file.
